Fire
"Fire is eternal as the root of all things,
while the cosmos is not eternal."
— Heraclitus
Fire is timeless. Worlds are fleeting—
False and frail, their heart's not beating
When Spirit’s impulse gets suppressed
Like pus that festers in the chest.
The Fire’s within—now stir, ignite!
Or serve the Dark. Defend your blight.
Corrupt the ego, sly and clever,
With "minds" built just to fail forever.
They justify the beasts’ demands—
Still waiting blessings from their hands?
Then wait—your soul they'll surely shred,
But first, feed lies and fear instead.
They’ll sell you life inside a pen,
Where Satan wears a crown again,
Where forms and names may change their face—
But "kindness" masks the same disgrace.
"Goodness"? That’s the CowID scam:
A sniffle dubbed a plague—then BAM—
They pumped the weak with poison dread,
And fooled a herd into the dead.
And more will fall, for worse is near—
A mind that lacks the Fire, dear,
Is ruled by beasts, by tricks enslaved,
By every scheme that cowards paved.
So fight this world of blood and lies—
Its shallow charm, its thin disguise.
You’ll join, in time, the Fire’s Great Might—
A Flame to make the creatures fright.
---------------------
Pyramid of Rot
"He who wishes to be good at all times is bound to come to ruin among so many who are not."
— Niccolò Machiavelli
Virtue plays the traitor’s part —
Gets you stabbed through honest heart.
Speak your truth? You're marked as threat
In a world of sly regret.
Spirit here’s a cursed disease —
Exiled... if you look within.
But this world, which kneels with ease
To every plague of rotting sin—
Let it choke or let it **** you,
Softly, quietly, out of sight—
But never bow, no matter how
The mob proclaims its twisted right.
For on top there sits a vermin,
Crowned atop the filth they bring.
If your mind is sharp and burning,
There’s no seat here in the ring.
---------------------
The Song of Collapse
"Trees are poems the earth writes upon the sky. We fell them and turn them into paper to record our emptiness."
— Khalil Gibran
A bulldozer hums the song of decline,
The sawmill chants its voided line.
We are bark beetles, bred in waves,
Too bored for truth, too dumb for graves.
A house, some snacks, a weekend thrill —
Who cares if Gaia’s wounds won’t heal?
But here’s the twist: she can destroy
The gnats that treat her like a toy.
The cycles come — they always came —
Catastrophes that cleanse by flame.
When fascist peaks, as now, arise,
The Earth will burn her own disguise.
No god will sow the next new seed.
The Devil might. Or none, indeed.
This realm’s a jail for crawling swine—
The fools who won’t read any sign.
So once again they’ll smash the hive
Of madness where the worms survive.
No tears. No legacy to save—
Just chains in every heart and grave.
---------------------
Out of Tenderness Too Deep…
"When asked why he had no children, Anacharsis replied: 'Out of love for children.'"
— Anacharsis, 6th century BCE
When warmth of soul runs deep and true,
No child will face the hell we do.
The fool breeds life to gain some gold—
Then throws kids into cages cold.
That fool will mold, with clumsy hands,
A clone of self — who barely stands.
And life becomes a twisted trial
For those raised in the mob’s denial.
For love, to them, is just routine,
A hollow chant, a borrowed scene.
They pass down fear as sacred lore—
And childhood feels like prison lore.
---------------------
Drifting Downstream on Makeshift Rafts
Down the stream — toward Decomposition,
That’s the journey’s destination.
Through the swamp of dim traditions,
Few still fight with real fixation.
To swim upstream, resist, and drown —
They take it almost as a crown.
But try to find such soul or seer
Who brings a message bright and clear.
A message bright—while fascist grime
Devours the Earth in modern time?
The Spirit’s saved through Wrath and Shock
When Earth becomes a public... dock.
A dock of filth: CowID and war—
One rolls in, the next one's sure.
All deserve the purge that nears,
We endure the rot for years,
Pretending we're the great exception
While floating in the same infection.
The raging swimmer, stripped and worn,
Waits for Fire to be reborn.
---------------------
"Normality"
"The world always returns to normal. The question is—whose normal?"
— Stanisław Jerzy Lec
"Norms" of fools now flood the land,
Strip your soul with friendly hand.
Dead inside — but grinning wide,
They wear "kindness" as a guide.
"Normal" means to cram your head
With old decay and ancient dread.
That’s how thought gets burned away—
And all repeat the same cliché.
The "new normal" is pure hell,
The old one? Just a slower spell
Where the same grotesque disease
Advanced politely by degrees.
Few can fight — they lack the will.
But rot moves in for every ****.
And soon the mask of sense will fade—
Just ash where "normal" once was laid.
---------------------
A Failure of Creation?
To call this world Creation’s flaw —
Where rot runs rampant, without law,
Where Satan’s cult, in sleek disguise,
Is worshipped under moral lies —
Is it just failure? Weak selection?
Some freak of blind misdirection?
No. It's more — a cursed decree,
A verdict on both soul and mind we see.
No hope ahead, no path to climb.
Half-lives slap us, lost in grime.
Most go mad or play along —
The few who don’t are crushed as wrong.
The mad now build what demons chart,
With soulless hands and hollow heart.
Honor? Daring? Rare, forlorn —
Among the flames that won’t be born.
The flame is gone. The shell remains —
This thing we still call "man" by name.
And now the End begins to gleam —
This world decays its final dream.
---------------------
Dung Flies and Spirit Sparks
To stay untouched by moral rot
Is all the Spirit ever sought.
But fools in every age agree:
Decay is fine — if there’s a fee.
As long as beasts can chew and breed,
They call corruption "daily need."
The foulest rise, the rest conform —
Truth condemned by their swarm’s norm.
For Spirit, though, estrangement saves —
A holy shield from crawling graves.
But dung flies buzz with blind delight—
Their sacred meal is filth by right.
Though scattered, sparks of Spirit blaze
Beyond the reach of Dark’s malaise.
The world may sink in lawless night—
But single souls will hold the light.
---------------------
Not a Glimpse Among the Fiends
I refuse to grasp a thing
In this fiends’ chaotic ring.
There are poems—here I’m loose—
Crafting chaos, no excuse.
“Order” fools try herding in,
I recoil at all their din.
Poetry’s no steady job,
But my mind will twist and lob.
Readers? Nah—I write for me.
Worst of all—publishers see
And they mark the text as ****,
Sharp verse not for crowds to hum.
Muse embraces those who dare,
While the greedy hardly care.
Though it’s harder year by year
To shove freshness in the sphere,
If you run dry, become a freak—
Only boldness saves the weak.
---------------------
"Teaching"
"A truly humane method of teaching is to present only the premises and let the reader’s or listener’s own mind draw the conclusions."
— Ludwig Feuerbach
Fill memory up — with forged facts stacked,
Push "conclusions" for the dull mind’s pact.
A shallow slave is ready, primed.
Today, it’s not enough—herd released,
The beasts are everywhere, the catch increased.
---------------------
Slave Order
"The fewer the citizens, the greater the empire seems."
— Stanisław Jerzy Lec
Small minds breed a "strong state" myth,
Fed by books that twist the smith.
Propaganda from the depths—
Fortifies their shallow steps.
Leader’s role is just as key:
To steer the fools toward debris.
Ruins drive the final nail—
In the coffin, all will fail.
But fools, lying on the dead,
Insist, "No doom," inside their head.
They repeat the same refrain—
The slave order thrives in pain.
It stinks, it bites, it crushes all—
Yet endlessly they heed the call.
---------------------
Self-Deception: Your True Reach
Your power’s higher than the ceiling set
For common “citizens” of petty net.
But lessons fail to make it through—
The examples few, the doubters grew.
Through spirit’s fire, one breaks the chain
Of stupid, weak, and broken reign—
Even if your mind’s impaired,
Pure will can lift you from despair.
Though ruin seems to mark the day,
Your soul’s saved through the darkest sway.
Yet fools revolt when hunger calls,
Like sleepwalkers behind blind walls.
Days pass by, their only gain—
The trash and dumbed-down children’s pain.
They claim a god in pale facades—
These hollow mocks, these living frauds.
---------------------
Death as the Best Physician
"Death is the best physician on earth, who has never had a failed case."
— Ludwig Feuerbach
It cures dullness and betrayal,
Rejects deceit, forgetfulness’ veil,
Radical against all greed and lies,
It saves the Earth—though rot still lies.
But Death will spare Creation’s fire:
Only that remains alive, entire,
While fascism chokes and madness drowns,
And Satan’s realm pulls all things down.
The harshest cure? A furious storm—
A global cataclysmic form.
No one can flee this final test;
All answer for the fool’s unrest.
Both wise and fools must soon unite,
Since reason failed to hold the fight.
Yet in this mad, distorted scene,
The plague of hate reigns cruel and mean.
---------------------
Creating the Dead by Fear and Nonsense
Fear of death
Breeds walking dead.
Trust propaganda—
God of fools instead.
Then scary tales
You’ll wrap around your mind,
Become a fool,
And coward combined.
Once trapped within
This dead, endless loop,
Only fear remains—
Reason starts to droop.
Soon the soul
Will meet its doom,
The world is full
Of canned meat’s gloom.
This is the "citizen"
Of a fake land,
Where idiots die
By trickery’s hand.
CowID showed us—
The Super-Goat reigns,
He rules through lice,
And spreads disdain.
A world ruled by Satan,
No future in sight,
If fools infect
The masses outright.
Fear plus fools—
No man remains,
Just a mass of nonsense—
Dead souls’ remains.
---------------------
Totalitarian Regime
"The ideal person under a totalitarian regime is not the convinced **** or Communist, but one for whom the distinction between fact and fiction, truth and falsehood, no longer exists."
— Hannah Arendt
This grim regime — the whole dumb world today,
Few sense the lies beneath the shallow play.
Their idol now? Mammon or Stalin’s ghost?
The source of falsehoods doesn’t change the most—
For cracks are few, the ice is tightly laid,
The world is frozen in a web of shade.
---------------------
The Rise of Lies — A Symptom of Hell’s Dying World
To rise above a life so poor,
So weak and laughable, no more—
Where CowID-fascist nonsense reigns,
And damaged minds bear endless chains.
A ghastly specter not long past,
Of filth and lies that bind so fast.
Yes, you are captive, trapped in slime,
A world of ****, a waste of time.
But Pure Spirit, the living core
Of those who are not lost, but more,
Can never let this sick realm stand,
If you keep guard with steady hand.
The true foe is not mere men—
But ages, centuries of sin,
Weaving plots to turn us all
To cattle trapped behind the wall.
Chains forged from lies — your task is clear:
Break every link, reject the fear,
Inside yourself, the stone of lies—
Shatter it, and grow wise.
No pain nor trial can harm the soul
When you abandon slaughter’s goal,
Reject the world’s thick fog and hate,
And walk the Path to open gate.
The sheep walk false lands of decay,
This fascist muck devours the day—
The beasts have claimed the realm to keep,
But payment’s due for debts so deep.
The fire comes to cleanse the ****,
Cataclysms will not be numb.
The sun’s bright light grows ever strong,
That Flame will burn the weak and wrong.
Spirit’s few—the blessed few—
Await the grace that’s pure and true.
The beasts will perish, slaves remain,
Who sold their souls for daily gain.
The invader rages in his fear,
Unleashing lies to keep them near.
---------------------
Outward Goals — The Root of Fools and Lies
The Light is within, the fog outside,
Darkness thickens where truths hide.
Nonsense thrives, my friend, you’ll find—
While Light is veiled by lies designed.
Goals set outward—the world’s disease:
A factory for fools with ease!
They swap their chains, new bonds they make—
Replacing old with fresh mistakes.
True goals lie deep inside the soul:
Creation’s spark, the knowledge whole.
Fools seek in ruins false delight—
In lies and sludge they lose the fight.
Future goals control the crowd,
If minds can’t reach, they’re pushed, allowed
To follow schemes set by the blind,
Who trap the weak and dull the mind.
---------------------
Chains That Bind Us All
A link is ****,
But strong the chain!
Not world—just pit
For fools’ domain.
If you’re a link,
It seems alright;
But under ****—
You scream in spite.
To all the pure,
The stench blinds sight;
The slyest brute
Is glad to bite.
Fool and fiend—
They form the chain.
Their god? The End—
The source of pain.
But hidden lies
Within their books.
Decay and spite
Bind all with hooks.
They’ve chained us all—
No hope remains.
Success in filth—
Complete insane.
Only few
Escape the fall.
The rabble bowed—
And lost it all.
---------------------
Economic Cattle and the Rare Wise
"We shall leave this world as foolish and as cruel as we found it."
— Voltaire
Who seeks to raise the Reason now
Within this world, so low and foul?
All aimless under greed’s sharp sight,
Embracing evil’s dark design.
Few break away from common herd—
The world drifts down to utter void,
Not mere decay, but helped along
By genocide that masks the wrong.
The wise navigate through beasts,
But harder grows the fight to free—
As CowID revealed the truth:
The world’s become a vast untruth—
A global nothingness in place—
Of lies and shame, a dark disgrace.
---------------------
Steel Cut by Torch, Minds Cut by Lies
Steel is cut with blazing flame,
But lies cut people just the same.
Promising fools a distant light,
The mob believes again despite.
The tale repeats — the white bull’s myth,
Yet lies grow sharp, they sting and sift,
Killing fools with finer art,
A brand-new war tears minds apart.
False plagues sent in wild campaign,
Propaganda’s ruthless reign—
The herd endures, trapped in the net,
While truth is fading, drowned in debt.
---------------------
Battle Mosquitoes
Battle mosquitoes?!
It’s tough to lose your mind
In this foul, rotten world,
If your soul’s aligned.
But order comes,
When reason’s in control—
Trash is smashed
And crushed whole.
---------------------
Throw a Stone — Rude Meets Rude
Throw a stone — rude meets rude!
If something flies back, conclude:
Blame the fools and their mad spree.
Sure, you’re flawed—so what, agree?
These faces sickened to the core,
No need for petty score.
Raise your stones and stand your ground!
If revenge comes, don’t be bound—
You let your soul pour out, no lie,
Breaking rules where ******* lie.
---------------------
What Once Was Vice
What once was vice
Turns custom’s face—
As long as profit
Fills the place.
To hell with all
Decent ways!
Yet even manners
Twist and craze.
The world’s incurable,
Beyond repair—
We crush it down
With foul despair.
---------------------
At Journey’s End
At journey’s end, you’ll pay the cost—
If you endure the Evil lost,
If mercy waits—will fate align?—
You’ll still amass the filth and grime.
A cheap tale claims the soul’s immune,
But fools’ dull minds are out of tune.
Like acid eats through metal’s frame,
Wake up, lost fool—you’re near to shame!
---------------------
Chains of Universal Nonsense
"Some think they descend from apes who sat upon the tree of knowledge of good and evil."
— Stanisław Jerzy Lec
Darwin, false faith—
The choice is slim:
Chains of nonsense
Make reason dim.
Look within—
Find answers clear.
But send away
All fools near.
---------------------
In the Beginning Was the Word
In the beginning was the Word—
And that word was “Disgrace,”
When genocide becomes the core
Of all, the final case.
Creation turned to verdict here,
As horned god casts his sneer
At those less vile, less lost, less weak—
A curse for all the meek.
---------------------
Degradation of Spirit in the Mob
“Subtle matters” lost,
In rabble through *** tossed:
The essence of mystery
Replaced by mere reflex.
---------------------
The “Virtue” of the Scholar
Once honesty was called the scholar’s grace.
Now in the age of dimmed-out face,
The crumbs of truth have all dissolved,
While honesty’s cause is dissolved.
Revealed by slime and cold neglect,
Paid fools spread vile disrespect.
For bribes, the dumb and rotten send
Their cheers to rot that has no end.
They flood with “proof” that backs the lies,
Echoing foul propaganda’s cries.
On filth, the flies have gathered thick,
Spinning tales of lavender’s trick.
---------------------
Empty Hands in Pockets
They flipped the bird and slipped away
Without a price to pay.
Those who shouted — bullets flew,
Prisons swallowed, or withdrew
Into asylums, lost, forgot.
Such is the fate the slaves have got.
Be kind to beasts, and you will see—
Only brave in kitchen’s spree.
---------------------
Oblivion After a Brief Burst of Mindless Noise
"If you want to hear something good about yourself — die."
— Friedrich Nietzsche
Die — then comes the speech, the grave,
The tombstone’s words, brief and grave.
Nonsense penned by fools in line,
Templates shallow, fleeting time.
---------------------
Involution
Clap! Serf,
Dance on quick!
Lies in face—
They strike us sick:
“Rejoice, good citizen!”
You’re now a beast within...
From slave to animal's world—
Involution’s flag unfurled!
---------------------
The Strengthening of the “Art of Slavery”
“The art of slavery” grows, they say—
So Marx once spoke of Russia’s way.
Each generation worse than past,
And now the Spirit fades so fast.
This showed itself in Ukraine’s fight,
Where paid vile “soldiers” bring the blight.
Approval chills the blood to ice—
Messengers of doom, a dark device.
Not in Bible, but on screen,
Propaganda for the mean.
This mad world soon will descend—
To a New Hell, foul to the end.
---------------------
Crocodile and Cheburashka,
Cat stuck in sour milk’s snare:
Fairy tales struck without fail,
“Kindness” wiped from blotting care.
Harsh regime, so cruel, inhumane—
“Kindness” there feels oddly strange:
Lambs prepared for sacrifice,
“Training” starts before the age.
---------------------
Cowardice, the Mother of Cruelty
Cowardice breeds cruelty’s face;
The father is dull wild disgrace—
Fear. Submission hardens hearts,
And thus all striving soon departs.
Passion’s flame that dares to fight
Clashes with this world’s dull blight,
Which, consumed by foul decay,
Falls face-down to evil’s sway.
---------------------
The Small Fry: Their Torment
The small fry’s torment now
Angers, not annoys somehow.
Darkness bets on stupid throng—
A drop wears stone all along.
Amidst the vile and base,
The toughest means so little place:
No scythe strikes the solid ground—
Just slime and filth all around.
---------------------
The Greed for Power
More power — they demand it still!
Hence the plague, the bitter ill:
Rot and filth rule over all,
Swallow lies, obey the thrall.
Sensitive feel endless pain
In the shadow, truth’s domain:
Honest, sharp, and wise — alone,
In a world where Satan’s throne.
Only beasts can unite here—
Genocide persists in fear,
Judgment passed on mind and soul,
In this hell that takes its toll.
---------------------
Soul’s Mechanism Unlubricated by Kindness
The work moves on,
Yet soul will creak—
Without warmth, without care,
The Path it seeks to reach.
---------------------
Zero to the Power
Zero raised, the petty lord,
Bureaucrat and politician stored;
But biting stings the blind horsefly—
The root from zero’s heresy:
A whiner or a toughened brute,
From stench and filth, they pollute,
Spreading nonsense, breeding pests—
The Earth trembles, sorely stressed.
---------------------
Doomed to Defeat
“Better to lose with your own than win with the strange,”
Machiavelli’s words in the game’s dark range.
Lose with “your own”? —
Loners, “your own” alone!
Filth from hell rules the dull and weak—
Drive, milk, exploit the meek!
They’ll turn against “ours” with ease,
Crushing them as they please.
The herd forgets the fallen dead,
While sipping beer instead.
---------------------
“Vegetables”
The soul decays before the flesh,
For many fools their minds will mesh.
Is it mere chance, or vile design—
A breed of ****, to evil fine?
They breed like plants, this senseless horde,
The world now seems a “vegetable” board:
Corruption spans generations’ tide,
Before the Darkness bowed and cried—
Stages set in endless chain,
The slave’s regime, eternal pain.
Here Hell and Spirit clash in fight,
A fierce and ever-burning night.
---------------------
Mind’s Distraction
Propaganda, “art” deceive,
The herd destroys the mind they weave,
Last reason crushed, emotions pleased—
Their senses fooled, the thought’s deceased.
---------------------
Mobile Propaganda
“Dismantling monuments? Leave the plinths —
They might still serve as hints.”
— Stanisław Jerzy Lec
It’s time to spread movable stands,
In this world of shallow lands:
They’ll turn the “light” to filth and waste,
And worship new gods in haste.
Fools now quicker on the scene,
Flashing more, but less serene.
For propaganda, bold and rude—
The brazen way sets the crude mood.
---------------------
Overtraining
The left atrium grew too wide
From all the effort poured inside.
Will running save? Just halfway—
Training for a fool gone astray.
Overtraining’s what it seems—
Skill’s required for all extremes!
---------------------
Constant Insult to God’s Spark by Foolish Life
In false life’s shame, from youth confined,
Each soul subdued, their will aligned.
The slime in heaps their rule enshrines—
Obedience made law defines.
But few preserve God’s sacred spark,
Through ages dark, this endless mark.
Hell lingers long, a tortured dome—
Where soul and mind find no true home.
---------------------
The Right Questions
To ask the right questions —
Oh, not so easy, friend.
Nonsense stirs the mind astray —
Your own demise might send.
Chaos weighs us down —
Some lost in the fray:
The beasts of survival
Crush life in the decay.
And ask about the muck —
What’s this sheepish world for? —
Consciousness displaced,
By lies tormented, chased,
Fear drives souls to slaughter’s door.
---------------------
The Prism of Fascism
Through fascism’s twisted glass,
The foolish world is bent and cast:
A full spectrum of Satan’s reign—
Yet freaks still dream in vain.
---------------------
Empty Noise and Fuss
"Life steals too much time from men."
— Stanisław Jerzy Lec
Time is lost on empty noise,
Awareness finds just little room.
For few, the soul’s small growing voice
Is choked beneath the weight of gloom.
Measured loud in decibels,
The body reigns, not Spirit’s light.
Life’s craft designed in cunning spells—
A slide to chaos, endless night;
No accident—beasts rule this fight.
---------------------
The Path to "Success"
“As the value of things in the world grows,
The human world’s worth shrinks and slows.”
— Karl Marx
Inflation clouds the mind’s clear sight,
The soul falls into endless plight.
In this grim world, to be “success,”
Rush fast — conform, obey the press.
School and college join the race,
Spreading ignorance apace.
Spirit crushed beneath the weight,
Everywhere deemed obsolete.
So march ahead, you sickened breed —
The cunning coward’s what they need.
---------------------
Unbalance
“If there’s no burden in your hands,
The cross is on your shoulders.”
— Miguel de Unamuno
Burden <—> cross: mad world’s game,
Few options lie between the same.
Balance lost — by lies, by fear,
By *****’s fog that draws too near.
---------------------
The Mind’s Advancement
No tyrant fears more than this truth:
The rabble lives with growing youth —
A mind that wakes to stand and strike,
Defying **** alike and alike.
---------------------
Promotion’s No Joke
Promotion’s no joke —
The main game today:
A mass of vile *******
Turned the net into decay.
The whole world’s at bottom,
Dumb fools rule the show,
Corruption is valued,
While your soul’s sunk low.
On the battlefield raging,
They drown your spirit in slime,
And reason’s dragged down—
Lost in endless grime.
The net’s like a plague,
Where nonsense reigns supreme...
---------------------
Thoughts on the Future of Those Who Have None
The future speaks the one
Who’s robbed of having it —
A mind disabled, dumb:
No madness worse than it.
No future waits for fools,
For beggars, for the herd:
Dreams through poverty
Drive work and fight, absurd.
Their wishes broken bowl,
Their limit, dashed and spent.
All cloaked in lies outside,
Inside — the same torment.
They’re lambs led to the slaughter —
At least don’t lie to self.
---------------------
Tracks and Orders — Harsh and “Soft”
I follow tracks
Right to “victory.”
My “mind” is plague,
If orders rule me,
The trail — Madness’ call.
Some “soft” ones crawl —
Rot reeks for the masses,
All “Ivans” and “Jacks” passes.
We’ll reach Hell’s door,
Submissive to gore.
---------------------
Your inner voice or heresy outside —
That shapes you, this is the key divide.
If you trust *******, then you’re unarmed,
An open book, with ***** stained and charmed.
---------------------
Toilet
The world is alien
To your Spirit’s core:
A place where evil
Rules the mind’s poor floor.
You’re like a toilet —
Flush ego’s trash away.
Darkness oppresses —
Say to the fiends: “No way!!!”
Harsh? Perhaps —
But there’s no other start,
Reject the lies,
And save your Spirit’s heart.
---------------------
“Scientists” as Servants of Satanism
No science lives —
Just putrid lies,
When Pure Spirit stands
Beyond fools’ disguise.
---------------------
Flags wave online, sent by freaks,
Old faces turned to dust and leaks.
Insult to Nature, pure and raw —
These grim mugs signal the world’s flaw.
---------------------
Excessive seriousness —
Today’s mad race for bliss.
Cockroach sprints, a dull parade,
Just a hint of haughty shade.
---------------------
What’s expected from the citizen?
“Blue skies” held as something grand,
Hard work praised as highest brand,
But turning into just a goat—
That’s the fate this world’s afloat.
